


corner

by mitzvahmelting



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Drabble, Inconsiderate Sex, Internalized Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 23:52:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16775440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitzvahmelting/pseuds/mitzvahmelting
Summary: but the kid's talking about how he never gave a blowjob in his life before he came up to the majors. and how he thinks all these queer guys aren't taking him seriously, when he makes his propositions. he thinks they think he's joking. he thinks he's gotta show them how good he is at this thing that he doesn't know how to do.





	corner

**Author's Note:**

> a quick drabble

scott's not a loud guy. he doesn't talk much. keeps to himself. he's got his own corner of the clubhouse, his own space that people come find him if they need him. he always sits in the same seat on the plane. always keeps his locker neat. checks his blood sugar before and after a workout. keeps track of the superstitions so he doesn't trip anyone up.

the young guys who come up to the majors, they can just feel like they made it, like this is their new home, like they're good enough. sometimes scott feels good enough, so that's nice, but he's not a kid like them. he wasn't brought up to the majors to be a star, you know, he's just here to do a job and do it well. his body won't last long enough for him to be a free agent. he'll never be making millions of dollars.

he's here to do a job for whatever team wants him. LA's not a bad town.

so he's quiet. and sometimes everyone just leaves him alone. other times, guys'll come into the clubhouse during a rain delay or something and they'll come join scott in his corner. he'll be on his laptop checking stats or old clips of the other team's batters, you know, do the head game, and they'll come sit by him because it's a good place to read, or meditate, or whatever. tweet. yeah. he doesn't seek them out, he doesn't try to insert himself into other people's conversations, but they'll find him, and sometimes they'll talk, and he makes his friends that way.

so he didn't, uh. he didn't seek kiké out. he didn't start this whole thing. he never went up to the kid like, "come with me, i'm going to do something nasty to you." he didn't do anything to anyone. he's been keeping to himself. keeping his head down.

kiké's loud. he got taken out of the game early one day and he wasn't happy about it. went to the lockers so his agitation wouldn't disrupt the rest of the guys. found scott there. started talking.

and scott, since he doesn't talk much, he's a good listener.

the kind of guy that a guy like kiké winds up spilling his guts to, unprompted.

scott didn't ask for this. didn't need to know any of this, this drama, with kiké and utley and seager and kersh and puig and... all this queer stuff. scott never asked about it. but the kid's talking about how he never gave a blowjob in his life before he came up to the majors. and how he thinks all these queer guys aren't taking him seriously, when he makes his propositions. he thinks they think he's joking. he thinks he's gotta show them how good he is at this thing that he doesn't know how to do.

well that was two weeks ago.

scott tips his head back against the wall. peers down at kiké. "you said you weren't gonna use your hands."

kiké pulls off. he had been using his hand to hold up scott's dick, but now he pulls his fingers off so he's only using his forefinger and thumb. smiles bashfully: "i was just, ah, positioning it."

using his mouth for sucking doesn't come naturally to kiké. he's just practicing. scott lets him do what he wants, mostly, except he tries to keep him focused on the practice part. if this isn't practice then it's a real blowjob, and scott didn't exactly - well, he just didn't sign up for that. that makes it seem like something else. something that it's not.

"you going to swallow it?" he asks, mildly.

kiké shrugs noncommittally. suckles on the tip. it feels good, and scott notices that it feels good, but, uh, he's probably not going to come from this. it's not the same as when it's with someone he really loves. that, and kiké's just not very good at it.

"you're going to have to use your throat, eventually," scott reminds him.

"i'm working up to it, relax." but even now, the kid waffles by focusing on the underside, nipping up the length of it where the vein runs. he's taking his time, running out the clock. but there is no clock. he's just scared.

scott gets that he's scared. scott understands this kind of stuff, but it's not really his place to talk to kiké about it, to talk to anyone about it. there are guys in the clubhouse who would make better mentors. kiké's been in the big leagues for longer than scott has, you know. kiké probably knows his fair share about fear, too.

he's still putting off the inevitable.

"come here." with thumb and finger, scott pinches kiké's nose shut. the kid startles, but not by much, like he kind of expected this. and scott gets his other hand behind kiké's head, and he pulls his mouth down on his cock. back of his throat feels hot and wet, and the flutter of gagging, well, that actually feels kind of good, all things considered. kid makes some noises but he doesn't tug himself away - he could if he wanted to. instead he just goes down nice and easy. if he'd had the balls, he could have done this himself ten minutes ago, but it seems like he just needed scott to do it for him.

he's looking up at scott while it happens. his face is turning pink because he can't breathe. the choking sound echoes around the empty locker bay. "there you go," scott tells him, softly.

he gasps in a breath when scott lets him up. just through his mouth, 'cause scott still has his nose plugged, and the gasped breath can't be too big because he's still got most of his mouth full. "and again..." scott advises him, and he goes down again - this time he grabs at scott's pant leg with one hand, white knuckle grip. somewhere down there, maybe the kid's hard for this, but scott can't tell from here, and he's not feeling pressed to look.

kiké taps his knee hard, and scott lets him go. he's coughing, hacking uncontrollably as he catches his breath, with a hand up around his own throat like he can feel the damage or something. there's drool, too - some of it's saliva but some of it's the kind of half-bile that comes up when you're about to throw up. kiké chokes it all out onto the concrete floor, and he kneels there, panting.

"you okay?" scott asks him.

the kid lets out a breath. "yeah," he says.

"you done?"

kiké nods, still watching the floor, the bubbly puddle of spit. "yeah."

scott stands up, and he does up his trousers. the erection will go down; he doesn't feel like he needs to come right now. he figures he'll go upstairs or something, see if the bullpen coaches are around. he offers a hand to kiké, and kiké takes it, lets scott pull him to his feet. there's an exchange of pats on the shoulder, and then scott leaves him. kiké's business is his business, and scott will leave him to it.

**Author's Note:**

> please comment if you liked it!


End file.
